


Justify Peace

by kingcael



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Emetophobia, M/M, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-27 14:54:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12083385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingcael/pseuds/kingcael
Summary: They lost their best friend into the embrace of the Crystal.Keep dreaming of the future.A happy ending is a lot of work.





	1. Splinter

Justify Peace

 

Prompto had run his lungs ragged. By the time he saw the light casting Ardyn’s shadow down the metal walkway, his legs had all but given out. Gladio’s footsteps were heavy and strong, exactly how they always were, a bit loud from how flat-footed he was. Ignis’ were different, but in that new way Prompto was becoming accustomed to. Ignis was hesitant now, but still graceful, taking smaller, more frequent steps, adjusting as he stumbled, and the whacks of his cane against anything in his path made his gait something to get used to. Prompto kept running- that was something he was good at- until the light faded, and a strange sense of emptiness struck him. 

Prompto stumbled the last few steps, nearly running headlong into Ardyn, and fear was nearly winning. The crystal hung tethered like an empty body, strung up like a hanged man. Ardyn was unconcerned, tipping his hat in farewell. That chuckle, the sound of the last week.

The blustering wind, biting cold, frozen tears and burning skin, bright hope and friendship before a haze of darkness and torture. Prompto couldn’t remember the details of the torture. Just lights that were too bright, pain that brought nausea, nausea that was preferable to the dry crack of his lips. How he wished for a drop of water. During his imprisonment, Prompto almost asked for Ardyn to stay after the torture, maybe to show pity, maybe to spare some water, some food, a moment’s respite. Anything but hanging by his wrists in solitude. Prompto thought longingly of the snowy field where he had lay down to perish, at least he hadn’t been so thirsty then. 

His throat felt as dry now, watching Ardyn leave, turning his back. 

The last few days rushed through Prompto’s blood, and he trembled a moment before raising his gun. Gladio’s rage was quicker than Prompto’s and he struck Ardyn full across the face with his broadsword, registering a moment of shock when Ardyn barely flinched. If anything, he was amused. 

Prompto steeled himself, taking careful aim, remembering how many times Ardyn had turned his back, remembering his laugh, the way his face would change in the dark when he pressed needles into Prompto’s arm and whispered insults and mocking praise. It was an easy shot.

Point blank. 

There was nothing else to consider. 

Kill shot.

_ He deserves it, he deserves it, where’s Noct, what’s happened, my best friend, he took him, he killed him, where’s Noct?! _

One shot. 

Done. Dead. Gone. Good.

Good.

Prompto’s eyes stung, he wanted to cry, but there were no tears. Not like the time he had killed Verstael, watching the life fade from his own face as an old man. 

He took several shuddering breaths, his ears ringing. 

Before he even realised what was happening, Ardyn was standing up, resurrected like some horrible marionette. Something about him was indistinct, hovering between something real and a shadow made solid. 

And then he was gone. Strolled away. Easy. Pleasant. But he travelled quickly, blinking between shadows. Or maybe that was just how it seemed to Prompto. 

Gladio tore after Ardyn, yelling something Prompto couldn’t understand. 

He blinked, wishing the crystal might stop 

whispering so he could hear

Ignis

Speaking, speaking

Too loud, but then like a whisper from another room.

what what what 

A low whine grew in his stomach, the only thing inside it, and when it escaped his lips

he was too empty to stand

the handrail

For safety. Don’t fall. 

did Noct fall, where is he, not at the bottom of this room, not broken into two hundred and seventy pieces, like they learned in Science, school was so long ago, in some other story, in some other world, where his biggest worries were running out of film and getting bad marks in Social Studies, not this, not wishing to see his best friend’s body just so he’d know what happened to him

The handrail stopped being real too, but became very real when it collided with his forehead. 

pain

why was that alwaysalwaysalways something he couldn’t ignore

Every ridge and gap and groove and split in the metal below him felt like a blade pressed to him. Surely he would fall through the walkway and land in two hundred and seventy one neat little pieces. So together, he and Noct would be… 

four hundred… no… at least that many though… five hundred… two two hundred... two seventy… and then one more… cherry on top

A sound ran through his lungs, taking the last of his breath, marathoning up and down his throat before pushing past his teeth. A laugh, not a smile that bursts, as he always said, but the last thing he could think of to do.

“Hush,” Ignis said. Whispered. Cried?

Prompto cried out then too, finding the soft cotton of Ignis’ shirt and holding on for dear life. If he could hold to Ignis, this would all make sense. Ignis always made sense of things. But if Ignis was crying…  what could they… There was no way to make sense of this if even Ignis was crying.

“Hush, hush,” Ignis repeated, over and over. Prompto stilled suddenly, realising he had his head against Ignis’ chest, riding the waves of his breath. Ignis’ hands were frantically gentle, caressing too quickly to be properly soothing. 

The room echoed, and Prompto could still hear the ringing shrieks of his own hysterics. He gulped, finding a voice he was sure he didn’t have. 

“Ig… what’s… happening…?”

“Hush,” Ignis said again, slowing his movements, and resting his hand on the back of Prompto’s head. 

“What’s happening?!” Prompto cried, his fingers curling over Ignis’ shoulders, pressing in as if he could sink under his skin and disappear. “Where’s Noct?!”

“I- I don’t know,” Ignis said, his lips trembling as the words shook off them. “I don’t know, love. Can you tell me what you can see?”

Prompto sucked in a jagged breath, remembering with a jolt that Ignis couldn’t see. How much more frightening this would be in the dark. Ignis’ only sense of what was happening was drowned out by Prompto’s panicked sobs. Prompto gulped, and pulled his face away from Ignis’ chest. The room was the same, perhaps quieter. The metal structure built around the crystal gleamed with blue pink light, neon from the magic core. 

“Nothing…” Prompto said. “It’s just the room, the crystal is hanging from the ceiling, and it’s empty otherwise. There’s some blinky lights, probably cameras.”

Ignis was silent for a moment, absently stroking Prompto’s hair. “Cameras… we might be able to find a recording of what happened.”

Nodding, Prompto pulled away a bit more, wiping his eyes and nose on the back of his hand. “Sorry… I… uh… I’m okay now.”

If Ignis didn’t believe him, he gave no indication, and instead nodded. “We should find a dormitory.”

“What? You mean leave?” Prompto looked around, half-expecting Noct to come strolling out from behind the crystal. “We can’t… we don’t…”

“Rest,” Ignis said, somewhat apologetically. “You need to rest.”

“But, I-”

“You’ve been away from us for the better part of a week. You’ve not eaten, and slept only a few minutes. I can feel your hands shake. I know you’re dehydrated. Your- your lips are cracked.”

Prompto pressed his lips together, grimacing at the scraping of his skin. Ignis must have kissed him at some point, and he had been so lost and sick and sad he didn’t even notice. Prompto didn’t challenge Ignis’ statements, and closed his eyes. His contacts were scratchy, and felt like they were gluing his eyes shut. There was a chill that clung to him still, like he hadn’t really left the tundra, and it was blowing around in his ribcage. 

“-mpto. Can you hear me?”

“H-huh?” Prompto raised his head, blinking rapidly. “Sorry, what?”

“We should go, before we become easy prey.”

“Y-you’re right,” Prompto said, shakily getting to his feet, using the handrail. Ignis stood up beside him after patting the walkway to locate his cane. 

“Together,” Ignis said softly, holding his hand out. “Keep an eye out for me.”

“I’ll… I’ll keep both eyes out for you,” Prompto said, smiling weakly as he took Ignis’ hand. Ignis chuckled briefly, but the smile dropped away from his face very suddenly. 

“Do you hear that?”

Prompto listened carefully, stilling his shaking hands as best he could. There was nothing, except maybe the faintest sound of a crackling fire, he supposed that must be the sound of the crystal. Maybe the crystal burnt Noct alive… could be ashes floating around the room, making it hard to breathe. 

“I don’t hear anything,” Prompto whispered, squeezing Ignis’ hand. It was becoming difficult to really focus on anything now, and Prompto swayed, leaning more heavily on Ignis. Ignis listened for another moment, his eyebrows pulling together as he strained to hear.

Prompto blinked slowly, groaning at a sudden wave of nausea. The disgusting wet sensation filled his mouth, despite his tongue feeling dry and raw. What if the air really was Noct, and-- 

Abruptly, Prompto fell to his knees with a ringing clang, and heaved, his mouth filling with the acrid tang of vomit, with an unpleasant and terrifying taste of blood. Noct’s blood? If he really was vaporised, they had just been breathing him in and- 

and his best friend was

was gone

**_Gone._ **

Prompto fell forward, his mind blank as sudden as a switch being flipped, and would have fallen where he had just been sick had Ignis not guided him away. It was silent after Prompto had fallen, and Ignis allowed a moment to take a long shuddering breath, holding him in his lap like the  _ Piet _ _ à _ _ of Eos _ . Absently, he fished a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping Prompto’s face, careful around his injuries. 

Ignis bowed his head, resting his lips on the greasy swoop of Prompto’s crown. He was rigid for a moment, then choked out a strangled sob, completely unaccustomed to the sound and action. Nearing hysterics, at least by his standards, Ignis hugged Prompto closer to him, rocking back and forth and letting tears flow unrestrained from his eyes and nose. 

The man- the boy in his arms, usually Noct. Usually after a bad dream. They were children, and Noct dreamt about a mother he had never met. He said he saw her face and heard her voice. He cried for her, and Ignis could do nothing but wipe his tears and sing little songs to lull Noctis back to sleep. A lullaby his own mother would sing. He had the role of a mother at the age of six. It hurt to lose his child. 

Now… now he feared losing the one he loved, to fear and despair. Ignis had seen how Prompto faded in the night, how he closed like an evening flower. Prompto was suited to bright days, to warm blankets and sweet hot chocolate, to sunbeams splintering across a scrubbed wooden table in a room with herbs hanging to dry and seventy two photographs pinned to the wall. 

“Seventy two photographs…” Ignis mumbled, rubbing Prompto’s shoulder to coax some warmth into him. “Remember? You told me… your favourite photo album had room for seventy two photos. So you said you’d pick your favourites to keep safe.” Ignis took a deep breath, stumbling over it a bit. “You want to hang them in our kitchen… with the windows in the south and the west so when the sun sets the kitchen becomes gold. You told me the gold would touch everything. The spice jars, the edges of the cookbooks, the floor. We would have to sweep, because every crumb would cast a long shadow at that time of day. You told me how it looked, how if I concentrated I could smell the sunbeam on the wood. I believe you. Prompto… darling. I can’t… I can’t tell you how much I… I need to know you still dream of that future.”

There was a long silence, dented by a clanging from outside the room, and the familiar sound of Gladio’s heavy footfalls was drawing closer again.

“I want to dance with you in that kitchen,” Ignis whispered. “I want to have our friends show up unexpectedly, just in time for the kettle to boil, and I want to hear you read out recipes, and I want to lay on the floor laughing about nothing… you told me… that was your dream. And somewhere, somewhere that became my dream too. Something past what I ever considered for my life.”

Gladio had returned, barking out a rough greeting before kneeling at Ignis’ side. If Ignis’ tears were still visible, Gladio made no comment.

“We gotta go, there’s some daemons scrapping in the hallways. They didn’t seem to pay much attention to me, but they’re getting close enough to block the way out of here.”

Ignis nodded, and squeezed Prompto’s shoulder again. He made no response, which Ignis counted as a blessing. 

“He passed out?” There was a pause. “Got sick?”

“Yes… he needs rest… food, water, antibiotics I would assume. A Potion at the very least.”

“Right,” Gladio said, with a softness in his voice Ignis associated with guilt. “Right. Let’s get back to that room with the beds. Pretty sure we can loot a vending machine at some point too. Here…” Gladio’s arms slid past Ignis’, and lifted Prompto easily. “You okay? Can you walk?”

“Yes,” Ignis replied, getting smoothly to his feet. “Let us make haste.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

The return to the dormitory was unsettlingly quiet, aside from the alarming sounds of the daemons screeching and fighting a few hallways away. Ignis detected the buzzing of the vending machine he knew to be two thirds of the way to the nearest dormitory.

“Shall we stop? This machine is still on.”

Gladio didn’t slow his steps. “Nah, I’ll come back. Let’s get back to the beds first, huh?”

A mild flicker of annoyance pushed a hard breath through Ignis’ nose, but he followed without comment. This really was no time to have that conversation again. 

Prompto was making small sounds, like he was trying to speak from deep within his dreams. It wasn’t uncommon for that to happen, especially of late, and Ignis had no idea what had happened in the last week, but it couldn’t have been anything to ease Prompto’s nightmares. 

Gladio grunted, and picked up the pace a bit. Ignis followed, tripping over something in his haste. He kept hold of his cane, but fell flat on his stomach, banging his chin against the steel floor and whatever detritus had made it so gritty and rough. His glasses slid down his nose, but still perched precariously on his nose.

“Oh, shit!” Gladio said, and his steps clanged as he returned, barely audible as Ignis’ head was ringing through the pain. 

“It’s fine, Gladio,” Ignis said crossly, already starting to get up when white-hot pain seared down the backs of his legs. He couldn’t keep a startled gasp from escaping him, somehow finding the strength to kick out. His shoe connected hard with something, and he kicked again and again until his leg was free of whatever was holding on to it. He scrambled to his feet, summoning his daggers and listening closely, shuddering at the feeling of blood running down both his calves. Gladio was still behind him, his breathing was loud. Prompto was still in Gladio’s arms; his mumbling hadn’t ceased. 

“C’mon,” Gladio said quietly. “Iggy, c’mon.”

Ignis nodded, keeping one dagger summoned and taking up his cane again. He was more grateful for it than ever, trying to keep his heart rate up to just keep walking. 

After they had neared the dormitory, Ignis had to ask. “What was that? What had happened there?”

“MT,” Gladio replied shortly, rounding a corner. “Ah, there!” He hurried the next few steps and waved an access card at the scanner, hurrying inside. 

Ignis followed closely behind, stumbling the last few steps and falling to his knees beside a bed. Gladio put Prompto down on the bed opposite, and hurried to Ignis’ side. 

“Hey, you did good. Crushed that thing’s head.” Gladio placed his hand on Ignis’ shoulder. “It got you pretty good, though. Get up on the bed and I’ll see what I can do.”

“I’m fine…” Ignis said, through gritted teeth. He obviously wasn’t fine, with bruises blooming on both his knees and the hot-cold wetness of flowing blood on the backs of his legs. “Make sure Prompto is in the recovery position please. And get him a Potion.”

Gladio followed the orders with no argument, though he did toss Ignis a blanket before he left. Clearing his throat, Ignis crawled on to the bed, trying to find a position where he could stem the flow of the blood. Eventually he settled on placing the blanket over the wounds and awkwardly sitting seiza with his head brushing the bottom of the top bunk. It hurt, but the pressure was appropriate. 

Prompto’s breathing was even and slow, and the rhythm calmed Ignis’ nerves. It was better for Prompto to sleep in this time of confusion. It was easier to think without Prompto giving voice to Ignis’ own fear and panic, easier to formulate a plan. 

Cameras… or at least Prompto suspected. Though Ignis had his own suspicions, now that all the myths and legends he had ever read about were twisting fiction into fact. It wouldn’t surprise him in the least if Noct had been taken by the Crystal. It would explain why it was the end of the labyrinth, why Ardyn had facilitated the merry chase and took away hurdles as easily as he placed them. 

Pawns. All of them were pawns on a gameboard of Ardyn’s creation. Being a strategist and not knowing the game was infuriating. Especially when Ardyn’s piece seemed to have full reign of the board, killing knights and kings and emperors all the same. And after multiple gambits and checks and illegal moves, Noctis was lost off the board, a self-made desperado that Ignis couldn’t keep during the blitz.

He was sure that his own sense of self-preservation had nothing to do with the fact that he was still alive. That was merely a mercy from the real gamemaster.

Ignis frowned, exhaling an annoyed breath out his nose as his thoughts tangled. Prompto was devastated. Gladio was desperate to occupy himself. And as for himself… he was lost. Their group revolved around Noctis. Certainly, after months of travel and the closeness of friendship only fire could forge, they had their own bonds, but the loss of Noctis was something akin to losing a limb. Ignis was subconsciously including him in the escape plan, factoring in the usefulness of a warp strike, before realising with a jolt that was completely infeasible. Ignis kept his composure, of two minds about Prompto’s ability to truly  _ feel _ the loss. It seemed the respect and shattered reaction that Noctis deserved.

But he wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be. Ignis summoned his daggers as he thought, turning them over and over in his hands and feeling the residual signature of Noctis’ magic. He had felt the loss of a weapon before, when King Regis had died. Ignis had been granted a beautiful glaive as he was promoted to Crownsguard, the youngest in King Regis’ guard. It was balanced, ornate, decorated with deep gold where Noctis preferred silver. As Ignis read the headline in Galdin Quay, he instinctively tried to summon his glaive, confirming the words before him like nothing else could. 

But not Noctis. He was alive. And for that knowledge, Ignis couldn’t despair.

The door opened again with a clatter, and Gladio slammed it behind him, setting something down with a loud clunk. There was a scraping sound, and then the clapping sound of Gladio dusting his hands off. 

“There. Safe and sound.”

“You’ve barred the door?” Ignis asked.

“Yeah, seemed safer. But the daemons aren’t really paying attention to us, I don’t think.”

“No?” Ignis said. “Perhaps by order of their master.”

“Huh, yeah, I guess.”

Gladio approached again, and nudged a Potion and a large bottle of water into Ignis’ hands. He crushed the Potion immediately, feeling the wounds on the back of his legs seal. They still ached, but the Potion did wonders to just close the wounds. The water was refreshing, clearing some of the buzzing from behind his eyes.

“Prompto too, if you please,” Ignis motioned towards where Prompto was sleeping. “And have you found anything to eat?”

The familiar tinkling crack of the Potion bottle preceded Gladio’s reply. “Got some of that dehydrated stuff, and found some instant mashed potatoes and noodles in the cupboards. Water’s still running, so that’s good.”

“Agreed,” Ignis said. “Perhaps we should fill any available containers with water before the plumbing fails. I expect we will need a day at the very least before we make our escape. I would like to review any footage of the crystal chamber again before we depart. We should also find a way to reclaim the crystal itself.”

“Right,” Gladio said, and he sounded pleased to have more tasks. He had nearly crossed the whole room, before he stopped and turned to Ignis. Ignis tilted his head, looking in what he assumed was the right direction as Gladio spoke. “He’s… Noct’s not dead, is he?”

“I don’t think so, no.”

“Right,” Gladio clicked his tongue a few times. “Right. Good. Okay.”

“Water, Gladio.”

“Yeah, I’ll- uh- yeah.”

Ignis looked away, adjusting himself into a more comfortable position as Gladio busied himself with rummaging around for any watertight containers. Gingerly, Ignis removed his shoes, placing them neatly underneath the bed. Prompto’s breathing was more staccato now, accompanied by those tiny murmurs. Ignis was adept at soothing those sounds away, it seemed just the smallest nudge or show of affection was enough. Though perhaps the odds were stacked well against him, in the current setting and recent events. Nevertheless, he stood shakily, and four steps later, he sank down beside Prompto on the bed. Prompto was curled up on his side, and Ignis sat between his knees and chest, running his hand over his bare arm. It had the desired effect, and Prompto’s breathing evened out. Ignis crested the top of Prompto’s shoulder, gently venturing over his cheek and tucking his hair behind his ear. 

Ignis lowered his head to Prompto’s shoulder and rested a moment, riding the rise and fall of Prompto’s breath. A wave of fatigue pressed down on Ignis’ back, and he sighed, finding peace in the proximity. It was still remarkable to him, the real and definable contentment he felt by just being near Prompto. Even battle-worn, emotionally and physically exhausted, their dear friend ripped away from them and horrors banging against the insides of their eyelids… still, there was the indomitable hope that being together brought. Ignis thought of the time Prompto had given the sensation a voice, watching some children play with sparklers in Altissia, before the world began to end. 

“Look, that’s so nice!”

Ignis had approached with interest. Watching Prompto capture an image of something beautiful they both witnessed was easily becoming one of his favourite past-times. There was something in his skill that made the things Ignis had seen with his own eyes even more breathtaking.

“What is it?” Ignis asked, and, in a rare show of public affection, leaned over Prompto’s shoulder and hugged him from behind. Their cheeks touched, and Ignis smiled at the warmth of Prompto’s blush. 

“The lights,” Prompto said, going oddly still. After a moment, he wiggled a bit, scraping against the stubble on Ignis’ cheek. “This is… really nice, you know?”

“Hmm?” Ignis droned, studying the screen of Prompto’s camera, comparing it to the scene of the children across the water with the sparklers and fireworks. “Lovely, I like the reflection on the water.”

“Not that… well, that’s really nice too,” Prompto laughed, that musical sound Ignis loved. “I mean, this…” He gestured vaguely. “Being this close together, you know? It’s like… like no matter what, there’ll be a light that won’t go out.”

There was a long silence, and then Prompto chuckled. 

“Sorry, that’s kind of a weird thing to say.”

Ignis smiled, and pressed a kiss to Prompto’s bare shoulder, just like he had done then in Altissia. How long ago that time seemed. Years ago. He took a deep breath, and began to sit up. 

“Iggy…” Prompto groaned, pawing at him with his hand before tightening around Ignis’ waist. “Don’t go, okay?”

“Of course, I’m right here. I’ve got water,” Ignis said, finding Prompto’s hand and guiding the water bottle to his lips. Prompto drank quickly, almost choking. “Good, slowly though.” After a few slow gulps, Prompto nodded and let his head fall back to the pillow. A shuddering breath and a sniff. 

Gladio was making a bit more of a production clattering around and opening the taps now, obviously a signal to have the heart-to-heart now while he couldn’t hear.

Prompto trembled, a small whimper breaking from his lips before he spoke. “Is he… is Noct gone? Dead?”

“No, darling. I don’t think so.”

“Are you just saying that, or dyou… dyou know?”

“I can still feel his magic,” Ignis said softly, pressing his hand to Prompto’s chest. “Here. A light that won’t go out.”

At that, Prompto shuddered, and choked back a few cries. “Y-you’re right… I thought… I thought he was…”

“I understand,” Ignis said, not removing his hand from Prompto’s chest. “For now, hold on to that light. We all must.”

Prompto curled up tighter, hugging Ignis as best he could. “Okay…” he said eventually, nodding a few times. With cold shaking hands, he took Ignis’ hand from his chest and brought it to his lips. “Don’t leave, though, okay?”

Ignis nodded as well, shifting a bit to lay beside Prompto, who shuffled back to make room. The bed was a bit creaky, though the pillow was quite comfortable, and both those things became irrelevant when Prompto wrapped his arms around him. 

“Can we sleep?” Prompto asked, his voice heavy.

“Yes, you need rest.”

“You sleep too,” Gladio interrupted, draping three blankets over the pair of them. “I’ll keep watch. There’s water and some food right here too for when you wake up.”

Ignis was about to protest when Gladio took his glasses off and folded them, placing them beside some crinkling plastic bags.

“Sleep.”

It really wasn’t difficult to convince Ignis to sleep now, cloaked in warmth with Prompto’s lips pressed against the back of his neck. 


End file.
